You Oughta Know
by A Girl Named Truth
Summary: Chapter One's mostly fluff but trust me there is drama on the way! Please review :


**Title:**You Oughta Know**  
Chapter: **01/?**  
Authors: **spicemerchantand myself.**  
Fandom:** The Mighty Boosh**  
Pairing** Howince (Howard/Vince)**  
Rating:** PG(ish), just fluff at the moment.  
**Summary:** Howard was woken from an awful nights sleep by several small yelps from his roommate, best friend and infatuation, Vincent Noir.**  
Disclaimer:** The mighty Noel & Julian own The Mighty Boosh.

Howard was woken from an awful nights sleep by several small yelps from his roommate, best friend and infatuation, Vincent Noir.

Although there was no way he could drift back to dreamland, knowing Vince was a few feet away from him, glistening under the morning sun, Howard remained where he was. Just listening. He wanted more than anything to sit up and be greeted by the Camden princess but at the moment it was probably wise to avoid him for as long as possible.

He'd have to stop running away at some point though. He'd have to tell Vince. Although their relationship only supported a few drunken fumbles and a kiss here and there, Vince seemed to think this way of life would last forever. But Howard couldn't take this uncertainty anymore.

-x-

From the moment he'd woken up, Vince knew today was gonna be a disaster. He just had that feeling, you know, the one of impeding doom.

It all started when he poked himself in the eye with his kohl pencil, then not only did his hair look incredibly flat, he'd burnt himself on his straighteners.

If he wasn't such a 'sunshine person', as Howard liked to call him, he'd have probably jacked it in and gone back to bed but Vince wasn't gonna let a few small mishaps stand in the way of what could be a great day.

Like he said though, today wasn't gonna be a great day and he would have been better off staying in bed.

Now he was sat staring into his soggy cornflakes waiting for Howard to emerge from his room and make him feel like wanting to put himself through the daily routine of smiles and hairspray.

However when Howard did make an appearance, he looked like he'd had even less sleep than Vince.

"Morning" he said strolling over to the table.

"Alright?" Vince replied, mouth half full, milk dripping down his chin.

Howard smiled and caught a few drops on his finger. Vince swallowed as his fingers brushed his chin. But they weren't drunk now and Vince's gaze dropped back to his bowl and Howard's fingers fell leaving an awkward silence in their wake.

It was a day of tension after that, not bickering and rows but distance and coldness, though neither was quite sure why.

Just as it had began, the day ended with a sense of impending doom for Vince. Though unlike this morning he knew exactly why he felt this way.

For nearly a month he'd been having dreams, nightmares really. They weren't scary in the typical way but they deeply disturbed him. He wouldn't tell anyone about them, not even Howard, especially not Howard.

Knowing that this night was not gonna be any different from the last, he headed off to his room as soon as the working day was done, mentally, emotionally and physically knackered from the all the thoughts he'd had.

-x-

Howard spent the entire day mentally kicking himself and giving his left arm Chinese burns on the staircase.

Why did he have no control over his actions? Why did he contradict himself? And why did his body completely ignore the wisdom in his head?! He plonked himself loudly on the sofa in the living room and sighed heavily.

Vince was in the bedroom. Probably hiding from the shame and embarrassment of having love struck best friend. This morning was a travesty. Why he'd done it was beyond him. Wiping milk from someone's chin isn't the most expected thing to do in any friendship, but in this friendship it had boosted the weird factor up to about 120 and they had both suffered with an uneasy day because of it.

'You really are a twat' the jazz maverick thought to himself before violently throwing a cushion across the room, causing a tottering shelf to break and send Bollo's William Thomas and John Witman book series of Planet of the apes to the floor. Howard bit the inside of his mouth hard and made a audacious beeline for Vince's bedroom. His blood was pumping and his thoughts were everywhere but he needed to put the wanton ponce in his place.

-x-

Vince half-heard the shelf brake, the door slam but it sounded distant to him. He was in a hazy state of sleepiness. He wanted nothing more than to doze off peacefully but at the same time he wanted nothing less because he knew there'd be nothing peaceful about it.

-x-

When Howard forced his way into Vince's room and stumbled over an array of cowboy boots he was greeted by the outline of a 'sleeping' Vince. How the door slam didn't wake the Camden prince was beyond him.

On a closer inspection though, he found that Vince's eyes were only just closing and he was in a cloudy state of mind, similar to the slight insomnia that Howard was suffering from. The maverick ran his hands through his hair roughly and exhaled deeply, still staring at the fragile sight before him. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb Vince but as each second passed the jazz poets heart crumbled a little more.

He couldn't decide whether he wanted to rip Vince's raven hair out or caress his rose cheeks. Seeing as neither would particularly help the situation, he came to the logical conclusion of giving up his quest and going to bed.

-x-

_Pitch black. Nothingness. Then little stars, like when you rub your eyes too much. Out of the darkness came a figure all in white with a black face that made only the skeletal like white streaks across it stand out. _

_It was laughing. Not in the "I just heard a joke way" either. He was laughing at him._

_"Jazz" he purred, his voice smooth and warm like melted chocolate but still mocking him._

_"What about it?" Vince heard his own voice ask._

_"That's me, Spirit'a'Jazz" he made it all sound like one word, syllables running into each other._

_"Hi?" his own voice said sounding unsure of its self_

_"You love me" the black and white creature laughed._

_"N-n-n-no I don't…I hate jazz" Vince stuttered_

_At that the jazz sprit almost doubled over with laughter, he pointed straight at him and then disappeared._

_Vince felt a cold breath on his ear._

_"You can't love one without the other" he whispered, voice like a low growl this time. _

_Then he was gone. Really gone this time. The stars started to fade replaced once again by darkness and coldness._

Vince shivered and blinked open his eyes. It was still dark. His clock shone out in the darkness. 23:37. It wasn't even midnight yet. that's what you get for going to bed so early in the evening he thought to himself. He rubbed his face, finding it coated in cool sweat. He shivered again and pulled his duvet tighter. Still no warmer. He wriggled against his sheets but they were damp with his sweat and stuck to him.

He peeled himself away from them and put his head in his hands. He couldn't go back to sleep, even if he wanted to. But he couldn't sit here for hours either, he didn't have the attention span required to amuse himself. He stood up and nearly fell back down again, his legs were weak like he was ill. He was still half asleep and his brain let his body guide him, without any clue where he thought he was going. He made it to the door and opened it without a sound. He instinctively stepped over the creaky floorboard and padded barefoot across the small gap between his room and Howard's.

His hand rested on the doorknob for about a minute, wondering what the hell he was thinking coming here and disturbing Howard at this time of night. He rubbed his eyes, part of him was so tired and desperate that he could have sat down, right there and then, and cried until he drifted back to sleep. But he didn't. Instead, with one hand still furiously rubbing his eye, he turned the handle and took a step into the dark room. If he'd had a blanket he'd have looked perfectly like a child who had just had a nightmare and had totted, still terrified into the safest place they could think of. Which really is what Vince was doing.

-x-

Four hours dragged past and Howard was still staring at the same spot, occasionally changing the position of his legs and sighing irritably. What his insomnia was caused by, he had no idea, but he did know what his thoughts would contain before he gradually dropped off. or who they would contain to be more precise.

He was at his peak of drowsiness when he could hear scratched breathing from behind his door. He tensed slightly scanning through all the horrendous creatures of which could possibly standing outside his humble abode. And then his brain stopped on one. It was quite a small creature, with dark hair and big features. It was pretty too, but monsters are never supposed to be pretty.

Then again it wasn't a monster was it? It was Vince.

And at that moment in time, Howard didn't know which he was more afraid of.

'Right as always' Howard thought to himself as Vince's slender body slipped into the room timidly. His ears soon grasped onto the sound particles and Howard heard his name being called in slight distress.

"Howard?" Vince called into the darkness after sensing movement in the room.

He sounded so vulnerable that Howard couldn't help but sit up and answer him.

"What is it?" he sounded tired but there was no accusatory tone in the maverick's voice, just concern.

"Uh…" Vince had all the words in the world but none could really explain why he was standing there in nothing but light blue pyjama bottoms, eyes bloodshot and mind not quite working. "Can I sleep in here?" he finally asked.

"Errr" Howard was caught off guard, especially after the incident with the milk and the cold silence that had followed it. He was also caught of guard by the paleness of Vince's white skin that was normally covered up with some glittery shirt or another. But that thought he pushed to the back of his mind. "What's wrong with your bed?"

"Cold and alone and can't sleep" The usually perfect man looked a mess, his hair was stuck to his forehead and he looked like he would collapse any second. Howard had no other choice but to shift up and beckon him over.

Before his mind had caught up with the conversation that had just taken place, he felt hot thighs and cold hands pressed against him, making him breath in stiffly. Some of Vince's hair tickled at his torso as Vince leaned against him and Howard became more uncomfortable as the seconds passed. All his muscles seemed to seize up and his mind felt as if it was going to combust. Just when we was at the height of his frenzy he heard a soft yet scuffed voice in the darkness, clearing his mind completely.

"Tell me a story?" Vince asked not even looking up.

A story. Vince wanted a story. He seemed to grow younger everyday. And in all honesty, Howard wasn't good with children. At all. The jazz poet cracked his neck to the side and bit on his bottom lip. Vince hated his stories, he didn't understand the depth to them. the pencil case story was a good example of this. Why did Vince ask for a story? Especially one of Howard's.

He felt Vince shuffle restlessly next to him and Howard let himself slip into a make believe world of elephants with handbags and raindrops with moustaches, which was the kind of story Howard was usually wary of but Vince's attention span was like a broken sieve, so the more loose Howard's words became the more he figured Vince would enjoy the story.

Tonight however even this out of character tale didn't seem to keep his attention and he started playing with the hem of Howard's shirt. Every now and then Howard felt soft fingers against his hipbone and he had to suppress the urge to gasp, hitching his breath instead. Howard soldiered through the rest of the story before coming to a complete halt when he felt Vince's hand glide across his stomach. It didn't seem sexy and it didn't seem suggestive but it was very sensual.

Vince stilled for a moment or two before bringing his hand back and stroking upwards. Something in the air changed and he felt Vince's eyes on him.

Up until Howard voice had ceased to weave their pretty pictures, Vince's eyes had been closed, just focusing on the soothing voice. But then it stopped and the spell was broken. He looked up at Howard to see him looking down at his chest. Vince followed his gaze and saw his hand resting, palm spread wide as though claiming his property, across Howard's loosely fitting shirt. It felt alien to him, he had no idea how it got there and he knew he should move it but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

It was Howard that made the first move. He forced his arm remove the delicate hand from his chest, but something inside wanted it to stay put more than anything, so he ended up holding onto Vince's soft hand in mid-air. Only a few seconds had past but to them both it seemed a life time.

Both of their hands hovering together, lifting the sheets up slightly. Such a small gesture that could easily be misjudged seemed to mean the world to Vince. He was about to let go completely and make a swift exit to the bathroom when the raven haired male brushed Howard's hand across his face, brushing both their fingers across his cheek, leaning slightly towards Howard. What happened next was inevitable. If Vince hadn't have kissed him, he was pretty sure he would kissed Vince. They were so close and the silence was charged on sparks, sexual tension. but the kiss contradicted the whole situation as it was soft, mellow and shy. Eyes closed and completely still, a warm feeling filled Vince, his mind blurred. Howard boldly tried to deepen the kiss, reaching up to cup Vince's head, before he realised that the electro pixie had fallen asleep faster than Howard could make sense of.

Tomorrow morning was going to be bad. Awful in fact.


End file.
